


White Blank Page

by PrioritiesSorted



Series: Play On [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, M/M, Marauder's Era, Post-Azkaban
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-12
Updated: 2012-09-12
Packaged: 2017-11-14 02:50:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/510527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrioritiesSorted/pseuds/PrioritiesSorted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sirius never bothered with Silencing Charms. For years, Remus cannot help but hear Sirius enjoying his conquests, for years he tells himself to forget. But Sirius never will.</p>
            </blockquote>





	White Blank Page

**Author's Note:**

> White Blank Page - Mumford and Sons
> 
> Can you lie next to her and give her your heart as well as your body?  
> Can you lie next to her and confess your love as well as your folly?

Sirius never bothered with Silencing Charms. Something about asserting his masculinity, or some such idiocy. James joked about it, Peter was in awe, Remus preferred not to mention it. Despite all his practice, all the carefully concealed scars, he didn't trust himself to hide the heartbreak. He didn't trust himself to fake a smile when James winked and nudged him conspiratorially, so he rolled his eyes and pretended to read The Prophet or Peter's essay. The truth was it didn't matter what was in front of him, because on those mornings he could only stare blankly at it, trying and failing not to listen to Sirius's bragging and Peter's questions and James's bawdy comments. He could feel Sirius's eyes on him, trying to gauge his reaction, begging for a sign of recognition that Remus would never provide him with.

The tension that hung in the air on those mornings was palpable, though none of them liked to mention it, and Sirius never confronted him about it. In a way, Remus was glad of it, Sirius had a way of pushing him to the limits of his carefully constructed detachment, and he feared what his unchecked, unguarded mind might reveal. In others, though, it unnerved him; Sirius always confronted things head on, whatever the situation. He wasn't one to leave the tension hanging, it simply wasn't in his nature, and it worried Remus.

Even so he despised himself for listening at the dormitory door when he knew James and Sirius were alone. He only vaguely tried to justify it to himself, knowing that he would do it anyway. He didn't know what he wanted to hear, but even so, he could feel the heavy beating of his heart and hear his own laboured breathing as Sirius said,

"It bothers him because he's jealous, Prongs, simple as that. I mean, he could probably get the girls if he wanted them – I'm told some of them like the whole quiet-and-sensitive thing – but doesn't have the confidence. He doesn't trust himself with them. Besides, he probably thinks it's immoral or something…"

"Are you sure, Sirius? I mean, it seems like more than-" James tried to suggest, but Sirius interrupted him with what Remus knew was a flick off his wrist as he said,

"Moony will be Moony. His wolfy ways are forever unknown to us." His tone was trying desperately to appear casual, but neither Remus nor James missed the hard note that sounded more than a little like bitterness.

But it was nothing, Remus told himself as he tugged the sheets further up towards his chin in the completely darkness of the dormitory that night. He was imagining things, just the way he imagined the looks Sirius shot him across the breakfast table; a look that was something like guilt and shame and that begged for forgiveness that Remus could not give. The way he imagined how Sirius's fingers would linger over his cuts and bruises in the dawn light, when everything was painful and hazy, bringing some small comfort in the hours between dawn and the Hospital Wing.

It was all nothing, Remus told himself. Night after night he repeated it like a prayer; it would not do to dwell on dreams. What was the point in wanting someone who would never, could never think of him that way? He would not forsake what little of Sirius's love he had for the sake of something that existed purely in his own head. Night after night he told himself it was useless, pointless, and he almost believed it.

When the time came, Remus found it almost easy to forget he ever loved Sirius Black; he was, after all, the man who betrayed his best friends. He killed both James and Peter, directly or not, and Remus found it surprisingly easy to let the last vestiges of the love he held slip away into the darkness that engulfed him.

So it was a surprise when, fourteen years later, Sirius looked at him with hurt and confusion burning in his eyes and said,

"Do you love her?"

It surprised him, but he only let it show for a moment before he replied,

"Yes, of course. Why do you ask?"

Sirius's voice was barely audible as he replied,

"Just checking."

"Sirius, what is it?" Remus asked again, looking up from the newspaper to look at Sirius properly, only to find that his old friend would not meet his gaze.

"Sirius." He repeated softly, a soft sort of fear beginning to creep through his veins – though what of he had no idea. Sirius remained silent for a few long seconds before the words seemed to rip themselves from his throat,

"How late am I?"

Remus's brow creased in confusion for a second before he understood; the hopeless, broken look in Sirius's face was one he had seen so many times on his seventeen year old self. He stared incredulously for a moment before he breathed,

"It's difficult to put a finger on it… I'd say about fourteen years."

"When you thought I betrayed them?" Sirius asked, something that sounded dangerously like hope colouring his voice.

"Yes, that was certainly an important moment." Remus replied, trying desperately to keep his voice measured. One of them at least had to think rationally in this situation.

"But now you know I'm innocent…"

"Sirius, please don't."

"I thought of you." He insisted, "For twelve years I thought of stupid I was, how I could ever have thought that those stupid bloody girls would ever replace what you should have been. Twelve years I regretted that I would be thinking of you night after night and I never told you." Sirius had risen from his chair now, bold and fierce as Remus remembered him. Yet somehow there is only the smallest twinge in his gut when he looks into the face he remembers so well, and he is almost calm as he replies,

"Unfortunately it only took two years of listening to those 'stupid bloody girls' and another three of telling myself that all those looks and all those little touches meant nothing to you. Did you ever imagine the effect you had on me, or was it only when you had nothing better to think about? Five years I spent trying to forget you, but you never wanted me to. Well, perhaps you aren't as irresistible as you think you are because I taught myself not to love you long before you were sent to Azkaban."

It took Remus a few moments to register that he was shaking. All the things he had felt and guarded and stowed away for all those years hanging in the air between them, yet somehow Remus felt no less angry. Sirius had stopped looking at him now, the fight gone from his stance as he slumped against the table.

"I've really buggered everything up, haven't I?"

"A little."

"Couldn't we just…"

"No, Sirius. We couldn't."

"Right."

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of a collection of Remus-centric drabbles called "Play On" 
> 
> Though they aren't strictly-speaking songfics, the mood and language patterns of each song are important. 
> 
> Comments welcome.


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